


Prompts Galore!

by azkabanter



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Cross-Posted on Tumblr, F/F, Multi, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-04-02 16:43:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4067230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azkabanter/pseuds/azkabanter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa proposes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'd Move Mountains for You

The first time Lexa knows she wants to marry Clarke is a Sunday evening lazing in bed.

They’d spent the entire day in pyjamas which, really, they should’ve thought through more. Clarke still had floury handprints on her ass from when they’d made chocolate chip pancakes and Lexa had smacked her ass and told her, completely seriously that there was  _nothing there_  when the blonde woman had swivelled to check almost immediately.

“I’m serious, Clarke, there’s nothing there!”

Lexa had leaned away from her embrace when Clarke had tried to throw flour on her face, swatting half heartedly but drawing her in for a kiss half a second later. When she’d pulled back, Clarke’s eyes were mischievous and Lexa knew there was a streak of powder across her cheek; she said nothing because Clarke was still touching her and she didn’t care one bit.

And then later, they’d ordered Chinese and eaten in bed, at Clarke’s request, the cat banished to the kitchen while they’d gorged on a shared General Tso’s chicken and watched shitty movies on Netflix. Lexa had handed Clarke her fortune cookie first.

“Read it to me, then,” Lexa smirked, following their usual tradition, to read each others.

Lexa had picked up their leftovers in the meanwhile, kicking open their bedroom door, walking a few feet to their kitchen and putting them in the fridge, listening to Clarke shout out her fortune.

“It says…ha, it says ‘ _a very attractive person has a message for you.’”_ Clarke popped the cookie crumbs into her mouth and crunched, seemingly unaffected, but there was a curl of a smile at the corner of her mouth.

Lexa leaned against the door frame, watching her, her blonde tousled hair gathered up in the messiest bun you could imagine, tiniest fleck of soy sauce on the corner of her mouth, looking so pretty and perfect she could scarcely believe her luck at that moment. She caught the cookie tossed her way with one hand, crunching it open and pulling the paper out with her teeth as she walked to the foot of their bed. Lexa remembers as she stood there, paper hanging from her mouth, forgotten, because Clarke was crawling toward her in a way that made her glad she had something to brace her knees on.

“What does it say, baby?”

Clarke had husked, glancing her nose over Lexa’s.  _Screw the fortune cookie and screw me too._ But Clarke was stubborn, and she wasn’t going to give in at this moment. Lexa took a breath and tried to settle as she read in a strong voice that definitely did  _not_ betray her desire to do unspeakable things to her girlfriend.

“It says,  _‘everyone’s right, you’re the best._ ”

Lexa had watched Clarke’s eyes darken almost immediately, reach up and pull her hair out of it’s bun, so it fell loose around her shoulders and back. She leaned back so she was lying on their bed, hand sneaking up the front of Lexa’s sleep shirt.

“You know, I never really put much stock in those cookies, did you?” Her eyes were wide and innocent as her thumb grazed Lexa’s breast. Lexa groaned, but moved her leg to settle her thigh between Clarke’s legs, pressing down, delighting in the way Clarke’s hips jumped. She smirked.

“Well… how about we test your theory, Miss Griffin? And you can give me your evaluation after my…performance.”

And they passed the evening with whispered declarations of love against heated skin until the sun rose again.

* * *

That had been a year ago. They’d been dating for six months. Now, Lexa has an army surplus bag slung across her shoulder and they wandering through Central Park for a spot to have their lunch.

“I don’t know why we couldn’t just pick up an order from The Crane, babe.” Clarke half nudges into Lexa’s shoulder and laughs as Lexa re-adjusts the strap with a barely there frown, scolding.

“Because, Miss Griffin, I want this day to be perfect. Besides, are you saying you’re _not_ a fan of my infamous white chocolate covered strawberries?” Clarke yanks her to a stop almost immediately, fingers pulling her round to face her.

“You made those? Oh my god, Lex, I think I actually love you.” Her eyes are wide and she presses a kiss to Lexa’s cheek, looking thoroughly impressed. Lexa grins, tipping her head down and kissing Clarke’s forehead. She speaks against her skin.

“Oh, I get it, you’re keeping me around for my cooking, yes?” She laughs when Clarke swats at her, catching her hand and holding it to her chest. She loves her. She loves her so much. Clarke looks up at her with eyes so blue she could drown in them, very happily.

“Of course not, you dork. I love you.” Clarke’s fingers flex against her chest, and Lexa’s hand loosens as she feels Clarke trace a heart shape into her skin. If Lexa were an overly emotional person, she might’ve cried at how goddamn sweet that was. But she stockpiled it, to the point that she would pour it out all at once and it would usually cause merciless teasing from Clarke, ever since they watched Marley and Me together and she got her period early and Clarke would just  _not_ let it go. Besides, she had plans to be a giant sap, very soon. The tiny little weight in the smallest left pocket of her jeans was barely noticeable, thankfully, but it could not feel any heavier to Lexa. She was not nervous. It was only that it felt like their entire future in her pocket. That was all.

“I love you too,” Lexa manages, and tugs them along after she realises they’re about to hold up a long line of school children on a field trip.

So maybe Clarke notices the slight tremble of her hand when she shakes out the blanket to lay on under the shade of the tree. Maybe she doesn’t. She spreads out the blanket and digs out various tupperware of food - chicken and cous cous salad, Clarke’s favourite, a packet of chips and dip, a bottle of water and, of course, dessert. She taps the back of Clarke’s hand as she reaches for the strawberries, admonishing.

“You eat your lunch, first, baby. Then you can eat as many strawberries as you like.”

* * *

Clarke groans in pleasure as Lexa pulls her fingers through her hair, gently, scratching her scalp as she goes. “That feels  _so_  good, Lex.” Lexa, with her back propped against the tree and Clarke’s head in her lap, hums in contentment and continues to pet her girlfriend’s hair, wondering how much longer she can keep this moment. The brunette wishes she’d set up a camera to record the next few moments.

She’s very conscious of the next breath she takes, feeling Clarke’s hair tickle under her chin as she opens her mouth. This is it. She thinks she imagines the halting of Clarke’s breath for a second. Lexa is the warrior of the two; the one that catches the spider with a glass and throws it outside, praises their kitten, Neville, (Lexa’s choice, but she didn’t think Clarke would take her suggestion seriously), presents them with various dead vermin. Clarke is the one to make her coffee in the morning, bring her flowers home from work, read her the morning paper and beat her ass at Just Dance on the PS4.

“Hey, Lexa, wanna dance?” Clarke was looking up at her now, a cheeky smile on her face. Broke into her mind and plucked the thought from her head, it would seem. Lexa twisted her mouth into some semblance of a smile. Some part of her was glad that Clarke couldn’t actually read her mind - if she could then she’s playing along excellently well.

“Only if I can pick the music.”

Clarke nods and laughs, levering herself off of Lexa and looking at her. Lexa reaches into her pocket, knuckles grazing the small bit of the next step of their life before she slips her phone out. As she scrolls through her songs, Clarke crouches by Lexa, one side of her hair swept over her ear, peering with interest at her screen, but her hand playing with the end of Lexa’s braid. “Love you,” she mutters, burying her face against Lexa’s neck, pressing her lips there. It takes a moment before she decides to take it further, but soon Lexa is groaning, head tilted, hands wandering.

“Did you wanna dance, or make out?” Lexa mumbles against Clarke’s already probing mouth.

“Hmmm, I think…,” Clarke presses one kiss, another, hands at her waist. “I think we should make out.”

“Oh yeah, you do?” Lexa shifts and lets Clarke slide into her lap, her own hands securely on her thighs.

“Yes, yes I do.” Clarke is adamant and loving and kissing her and she forgets everything until one of Clarke’s hands drifts to her pocket, and there’s a crinkling sound. It’s loud and obviously something that catches Clarke’s attention. “What’s this?”

Okay, now this is it.

Lexa wants to take it slow. But Clarke is looking at her in a way that makes Lexa want to marry her tomorrow, screw everything else. But she smiles and sits them up, Clarke still in her lap. Clarke lifts herself up so Lexa can take the slightly crumpled packet from her right pocket, showing it to Clarke.

“A cookie?”

“You remember that Sunday we spent in our pyjamas making pancakes and eating Chinese?” Lexa feels her heart beat faster.

“I think you’ll have to be more specific maybe, Lex, we’ve had a few of those.” Clarke smiles, but her eyes tell Lexa something else. She knows which one she means.

“You had a cookie, I had a cookie. There was another one.”

“You kept a fortune cookie for a year?” Clarke is incredulous but curious, playing with the packet. Lexa watches as Clarke turns it over in her hands, slowly. Her voice is quiet when she speaks again. “Can I open it?”

Lexa’s heart jumps. She may be a warrior for her princess, but love has always been her weakness. Clarke knows her, inside and out, and she knows Clarke and she wants to carry on knowing her. They’ve been together for over a year. Their friends tell them they’re adorable. They  _know_ they’re adorable. Lexa loves this girl with all her heart. “Yes.”

Clarke busies herself opening it with her teeth, and Lexa slides her fingertips into the smallest part of her left pocket, holding the ring for the first time since she put it in her pocket at six o’clock this morning. Her hands aren’t shaking. She grips it tighter, conviction making her strong. As Clarke cracks it open, she catches the roll of paper before it drops into her lap. Lexa nuzzles into her cheek, and she keeps her head against Clarke’s.

“Read it to me?” It was their tradition. She hears Clarke’s breath catch, and Lexa can’t help but smile.

“It…it says,  _you will marry your lover._ ” She looks up and sees the ring, held between two of Lexa’s fingers. “Oh my god, Lex…,” Clarke husks, and her eyes are bright with tears. Lexa hushes her, so she can say her piece.

“I’ve known since then I’ve wanted to marry you, Clarke Griffin. I’d move mountains for you, if you asked me to.”

Clarke’s bottom lips quivers and it’s adorable and Lexa wants to kiss her until they can’t breath, but she has to  _ask her_ first.

“I used to say love is weakness, and if that is true, then you are my kryptonite, and I would not have it any other way. Will you marry me?”

It seems like an age until Clarke answers her. Lexa won’t lie, it’s a goddamn terrifying few seconds that stretch into moments that she will be haunted by for the rest of her existence, in the best of ways.

And then Clarke takes her face in her hands and kisses her,

“Yes, yes, yes,” she says, and they are pressed to her lips and Lexa swallows them, greedy, relieved and so in love. Clarke cries and Lexa cries, and they laugh and they kiss and Clarke said yes, and Lexa feels like she might burst. She’s never felt so weak and so strong at the same time, and she wouldn’t let go of the feeling for anything, as long as she kept Clarke.


	2. I Bet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was to include two phrases. Here, it's "are you ticklish" and "I bet I can make you scream my name."

* * *

_Netflix and chill tonight? ;)))_

_Clarke. Please stop trying to proposition me via memes._

_Are you saying no?_

_I’ll be there._

When Clarke answers the door, she pulls Lexa in by her waistband and kisses her, apartment door wide open with Miss Franks tutting as she shuffled past. Lexa pushes at Clarke with her hips, backwards into Clarke’s living room. She steps them backwards and detaches herself as she kicks the door closed.

“You need to stop torturing that poor woman, Clarke,” Lexa nudges Clarke’s nose with her thumb and then turns to glance out of the peephole. You can’t see her, but Miss Franks huffing resonates throughout the hallway.

“Well then, you need to stop timing your arrival by her nightly hall treks.”

Lexa turns and grins at her girlfriend, shoving her lightly. “C’mon, let’s go. I can smell the popcorn and your Netflix is calling my name.” Clarke laughs and takes Lexa’s hand, just for the fact that she could, and pulls her to the kitchen.

Two hours later, the popcorn bowl is empty and discarded, Netflix paused as neither girl can be bothered to reach the controller, a mere two feet away, while they’re curled up together on the couch. Lexa lies beneath Clarke, stretching her arms up above her head while the blonde rearranges herself, settling with her chin at Lexa’s clavicle. When she sighs, her whole body relaxes into Lexa’s, moulding to her shape, and the brunette knows that she’d happily fall asleep right here. As Lexa stops stretching, her hands fall to Clarke’s back, resting for a moment, and then sliding beneath her shirt, to find bare skin. Clarke inhales sharply against her, and Lexa’s feels her shudder.

“Wow, Clarke, are you ticklish?” Lexa asks, smiling against Clarke’s neck as she wriggles, as if she didn’t already know the answer. Her finger tips touch on every bump, tracing the curve of the blonde’s spine, unrelenting. Clarke whines soundlessly, but when Lexa’s fingers make another trip up and down she jerks upright, twisting her wild blonde locks up into a messy bun atop her head. Her face tells Lexa everything, this girl means business now. She sits on top of Lexa and regards her, carefully, but Lexa says nothing, just plays with the hem of her shirt until Clarke speaks.

“Wanna play a game?”

Lexa purses her lips. “Like Monopoly? Sure, I can g—,” Clarke sinks down to kiss her, cutting her off. Clarke sucks Lexa’s bottom lip into her mouth and bites, a mild punishment, well received. Lexa moans when Clarke releases her, looking into blown pupils, blazing blues and a smirk that settled in the pit of Lexa’s stomach and lower.

“Not that kind of game, Lex.” Yeah, Lexa was getting that. “It’s called ‘I Bet.’” Clarke crosses her arms and pulls her shirt up and over her head, tossing her shirt across the room. “You first.”

Lexa, once she’s sure she hasn’t swallowed her tongue, opens her mouth. “Okay…I bet that I can make you whimper with one touch.”

“One to—-,” Clarke breaks halfway through, eyes rolling back into her head, a strangled noise coming from her throat. Lexa just smirks, retracting her hand from between Clarke’s legs. “Fuck,” Clarke breathes, letting her head drop forward, blonde hair curtaining her face. She moves closer, shakes her head.

“Your turn.” Lexa speaks, biting her lip in anticipation.

“I bet…I can make you scream my name.”


	3. First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reverse dating?

“See you after work tomorrow?” Lexa asks, as she tilts her head to better appreciate the curve of the blonde’s ass as she watches her shimmy into her pants. God, this girl is beautiful. She rubs the sleep out of her eyes, reaches for her glasses and focuses on Clarke in time to see her snap her bra in place. The blonde looks over her shoulder, twisting her hair in her hands.

Clarke laughs and reaches back toward the bed for her scrub shirt. “I get off late, babe.” Lexa catches her wrist and rubs her pulse point with her thumb.

“Doesn’t matter, I can be here.” Lexa looks owlish through her thick frames; Clarke would never tell her that she thinks that the whole nerd look is both very cute and extremely hot. Mostly because she wouldn’t be able to explain how that feeling worked. “Besides,” Lexa continues, pushing forwards so the sheet drops from her chest. She pretends not to notice when she hears Clarke’s breath catch. “I know you and your late night cravings.”

Clarke smacks her and makes to pull away, mocking offence, but Lexa tugs, unrelenting. Draws her in for a goodbye kiss. Eventually Clarke pulls back, looking vaguely annoyed. “Speaking of, you’re gonna make me late, Woods.” Even as she says the words she kisses Lexa’s cheek to soften them, before she turns away and is gone. Lexa flops back against the pillow after she leaves, pushing her glasses on to the top of her head and sighing.

 

* * *

 

It’s a few days after their last meeting when they come across each other in town. More accurately, Clarke, as she’s getting her coffee, glimpses Lexa coming out of the tattoo shop across the road, arm in arm with another woman. Even though the windows are mildly fogged with the heavy steam that engulfs the cafe Clarke stands in, Lexa’s…friend…is very clear to her. Tall, dark eyes, high cheekbones and a striking walk. The blonde gapes as she watches the stranger kisses Lexa’s forehead, chucks her chin and walks off, leaving Lexa with a grin as she turns to go in the opposite direction. Something stirs in the pit of Clarke’s belly and she eventually returns to the matter at hand; the barista is holding out her coffee with a sympathetic expression.

“Looks like you’ve seen a ghost, eh?” Clarke takes the coffee and closes her mouth, nodding before speaking.

“…something like that.” As she leaves the coffee shop, Clarke acknowledges that the relationship between herself and Lexa Woods had never been anything official. But the jealousy sours the creamer in her stomach and turned her lips to a frown - she would have to do something to change that. She pulls her phone from the breast pocket of her scrubs and taps out a quick message.

_When do you get off tonight?_

Lexa comes back to her after a minute, and Clarke smiles.

_Sooner rather than later with you around. ;)_

_How long did it take you to come up with that line, hm?_

The blonde types back, biting her lip in anticipation of the response.

_Doesn’t take long, Clarke. Am I seeing you tonight?_

_Do you want to?_

_Try need to._

Lexa’s last response causes a shiver to trip up Clarke’s spine and she texts back quickly, grateful for only having two hours left of her shift.

_See you later then. ;)_

 

* * *

 

Lexa gets home from work just after eight. She leans back against her front door after she shuts it and breathes for a second. It had been a long, draining day. Kicking off her heels, the brunette pulls her hair free from its tight bun, fingertips massaging into her scalp as her hair falls in waves over her shoulder. She hasn’t heard from Clarke since she got off work, so she fishes her phone from her pants pocket and presses dial.

For a second she’s confused when she hears Clarke’s ringtone sound from inside her apartment. Clarke answers on the second play through.

“Hello?” Clarke answers, chipper, cheerful, cheeky. Lexa can hear the smile in her voice.

“Hi,” Lexa pops a few buttons on her shirt as she takes a step forward, wondering whether she’d have to play a hide and seek game with her blonde. “So…how come you beat me home, hm?”

“I know where you keep your spare.”

“You’re dodging the question, Clarke.” Lexa takes a few more steps and reaches the door to her bedroom. It’s ajar, not closed as she’d left it this morning. The brunette nudges it open with her foot. The curtains are drawn, so it’s gloomy, but Lexa can see Clarke’s shape on her bed. She flicks the light while she props the phone between her jaw and shoulder. And when the light comes on, Lexa doesn’t even notice her phone drop to the floor.

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

“Because, Lexa. I missed you,” the blonde purrs.

“Fuck.” After Lexa picks her jaw up off the floor, she unbuttons her shirt and walks forward to meet Clarke at the foot of the bed. She reaches for Clarke as the blonde helps her out of her shirt, letting it drop to the floor and kneeling there for a moment, drinking in her toned, muscled skin. Her movements are tentative, almost reverent, as Clarke traces Lexa’s stomach.

“Don’t I get a hello?” Clarke grins, and Lexa surges forward, kissing her forcefully, pushing her back on to her bed. Lexa kisses her until she has to break for breath, at which point she moves only far enough away that there is a minute amount of space between them.

“Hello, you.” Lexa nudges her nose with her own and kisses her again, and she has to wonder why she hasn’t asked her out yet. Like, officially. The pair had been hooking up for a few months now, and it had been easy, everything a relationship should be, expect for the title itself.

“Hi,” Clarke laughs and her hands find Lexa’s waistband. Impatient. The words she wanted to speak were on the tip of her tongue, she ached for Lexa to know that she wanted her more than this, more than their hook ups, occasional breakfasts. They texted each other more than they talked; Raven frequently liked to dissect their texts to each other and frequently proclaim that they were one step from a relationship by the manner of their texts. Privately, Clarke agreed, but she was not one to ruin a good thing. A beautiful girl, great sex, and someone who was as busy and as understanding about a hectic work schedule as she was. And she made her laugh.

“So you were saying you missed me, mm?” Lexa reaches behind her back to take off her bra as she sits atop Clarke, who is busy at her neck, open mouth, wet kisses.

“I saw you today,” Clarke murmurs between her ministrations. “Outside that tattoo place.”

“You didn’t come and say hi?” Lexa tilts her head to allow the blonde better access. Even as she asks, she suspects she knows the answer.

Clarke stops, and straightens, winding her fingers through Lexa’s curls. “You were with someone. A girl.”

“Anya?”

“Mhm,” Clarke makes a noncommittal sound, and Lexa sees her brow crease for a second before it clears, making to cross her arms over her bare chest. Defensive.

“Wait, wait, Clarke.” Carefully, Lexa pulls away her arms, kissing the skin of her inner arm and wrists on both sides. “What’s wrong?”

Clarke shrugs, and Lexa is struck by her change in mood. Her suspicions are confirmed. Lexa leans down and cups Clarke’s jaw. Resists the urge to laugh. She bites the inside of her cheek and kisses the corner of Clarke’s mouth, attempting to coax a smile. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous of her.” Clarke doesn’t respond, but moves her head to kiss back, softly. “Hm?”

“Maybe,” Clarke answers in a small voice, pouting up at her.

“First of all,” Lexa murmurs, lifting herself up and rolling on to her back so she’s side by side with Clarke, wriggling out of her work pants, “Anya is my sister.” She looks to her left and sees Clarke looking right back at her with an adorably pained expression. Lexa can’t help but laugh and receives a shove that nearly topples her off the bed. Lexa rolls back on top of Clarke in response, threading her fingers through Clarke’s and lifting the blonde’s arms above her head. Clarke wriggles, lifting her hips in an attempt to spur the brunette above her.

“Second of all, and maybe I should have asked you before we started doing…well, this,” Lexa moves her hips and listens to Clarke whimper, “But would you like to go on a date sometime?”

“I go to all this trouble, Woods, and you’re asking me on a  _date_?” Clarke is all smiles, though, blonde hair mussed out around the pillows. She tries to look affronted, but Lexa’s movements are doing things to her that need to be addressed. “Ask me after round two, and you can take me to the Italian around the corner.”

“Deal.”


	4. Care-giver Clarke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In sickness and in health, however much Lexa thinks she's not actually sick.

“I heard that.” Clarke walks through the door with a tray balanced on one palm, tissues and hot water bottle under her other arm.

“You didn’t,” Lexa sniffles, but it’s muffled. She’s half hidden under a blanket stretched out on the couch, head nose above the cover but not much else. Her eyes are narrowed up at Clarke. Her nose is red, her eyes are watery. Clarke coos, carefully setting the tray on the coffee table a few feet from Lexa’s head.

“Soup and grilled cheese, baby girl.” Clarke ignores Lexa’s huff, waits till she shuffles back against the couch and sits in the gap Lexa creates for her, pulling her knees up so she can put her feet in Lexa’s face. Lexa makes a show of gagging at Clarke’s bare toes about an inch from her nose, so Clarke wiggles them.

“You gonna sit up so you can eat something today?”

“I have eaten something today.” Lexa grumbles but shifts into a sitting position, shoulder to shoulder with Clarke.

“The smoothie that I made you this morning doesn’t count.”

“How come?”

“You know how come! It’s what happens when you insist on exercising when you’re ill. The front doormat will always smell vaguely of puke now.”

Lexa grimaces and dips her chin to her chest in guilt, leaning into Clarke. She doesn’t say anything but rakes her fingers through her curly hair with a sigh that seems to rattle through her. She can’t finish exhaling before she’s bent forward in a wrenching cough that makes Clarke flinch at the severity - the blonde reaches for the bottle of water by the coffee table, waiting for Lexa to finish coughing before offering it to her.

“Take it slow,” Clarke warns, poised for another coughing fit. She watches Lexa sip slowly, nodding approvingly when it seems to settle.

“I’m not sick,” Lexa puts the bottle on the table. She looks to her side and clocks Clarke’s expression. Gives a small shrug and a half smile, her eyes tired. “I’m fine, really, it’s not bad.” But as she says it the urge to lie back down over comes her, so she leans back and fights to keep her eyes open.

“Before you sleep, I want to see if you can eat something. I know you don’t feel hungry, but you still need to eat.” Clarke pats Lexa’s knee to gain her attention and picks up the bowl of tomato soup, spoon at the ready. “Let me put my three months of medical training to good use and take care of you.” The blonde didn’t really have the patience or the passion for medicine - her time was far better used as a junior interior designer with her commissions on the side, she earned a decent living. Lexa worked in research in the city’s museum, and this cold was courtesy of her guest talk during the last school visit. Full of kiddies with snotty noses.

Lexa smiles and turns her head away for a second to force a cough while her throat tickles annoyingly. As she turns back to Clarke, her girlfriend has already dipped the spoon in and is proffering it to her. Lexa’s nose wrinkles despite the cuteness of the situation; she’s definitely not used to being taken care of. So she tries again.

“Clarke, I can do it myself I—,” she’s cut off for the fact that there’s suddenly a spoon in her mouth, and her eyes bulge momentarily. She swallows the warm liquid and Clarke withdraws the utensil, looking stubborn. There’s an expression on her face that can only mean business; Lexa knows she will not win this battle.

“Don’t fight me on this Lex, eat your soup.” She’s already going for round two. This time, Lexa opens her mouth obediently, and Clarke makes a little whooshing noise as she flies the spoon into landing. Lexa rolls her eyes but eats, and with each spoonful she feels warm and tired. More tired. When Clarke sets the mostly empty bowl back on the coffee table, Lexa is falling asleep.

Clarke unfolds herself from the couch and stands, holding out both hands for Lexa to take. “C’mon you, bed time.” Lexa grabs on and Clarke pulls her up to her feet. She doesn’t sway but she does step into Clarke’s arms and holds on. Clarke cuddles her for a moment and then they walk the short distance to the bedroom. Lexa isn’t overly touchy feely unless she’s tired, so Clarke expected this. Even so, it makes her heart squeeze in her chest at just how cute vulnerable Lexa is. Clarke sits on her side of the bed in her sleep shorts and shirt, waiting for Lexa to change. Once the brunette is done, Clarke gets under the covers and pulls them up for Lexa to slip under, and she immediately curls against Clarke, settling against her.

“You’ll get hot, Lex.”

“Don’t care. Cuddles. Need them.” Lexa is adamant, curling her fingers into the soft cotton of Clarke’s shirt. The blonde relents - for now, if it gets Lexa to sleep easier she’ll take it. Maybe the key to a quick cure was sweating it out, anyway. “I’m not sick,” Lexa adds, but her eyes are shut and her voice is rough with the soreness of her throat.

“Sure you’re not, Lex. That’s why we’re going to sleep at four in the afternoon. Completely voluntary.” The blonde jerks away for a second and laughs when Lexa pinches her side, but she tightens her arms around the brunette who lies half atop her and snuffles her nose into her curls. “Sleep,” Clarke soothes, stroking Lexa’s back as she speaks into her hair. Clarke waits to hear her deep, even breaths before she stops, and her own eyes droop. She hadn’t realised she were tired. Maybe she needed a nap, too.


	5. The Cat's Meow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talk shit get hit. (The prompt is: "I brought my new kitten to school please hold them while I kick this guy's ass.")

Friendships usually came about through proximity, circumstance, shared interests. For Clarke Griffin, her friendship with Lexa Woods had come through a forced partnership in their junior year of high school, during the standard Home Ec flour baby assignment. During which, Clarke had fallen halfway down the stairs of Lexa’s home with the baby in her arms. The baby had exploded and Lexa had driven them both to the hospital so that Clarke that could get her stitches. Then, a covert mission to Target to replace the child they had lost, Lexa rolling her eyes but secretly enjoying it that Clarke had insisted on humming the Mission Impossible theme as they scanned the baking aisle for the right brand. It had cemented their friendship.

“Morning Miss Griffin,” Lexa is leaning against the locker next to Clarke’s with a grin on her face. Her dark eyes are bright and happy, and the smile is not something that Clarke is accustomed to seeing on a Tuesday morning, at least.

“Good morning, Miss Woods,” Clarke spins the combination of her locker and shifts the bag on her bare shoulder as she turns to face her friend. Her friend who was so very different from herself, dark hair, dark eyes, dark style. Extremely attractive. Clarke feels a familiar heat in her cheeks as the feeling registers and she curses herself internally.

“What’s got you so happy this early? First period Physics get cancelled?”

Lexa just smirks and curls her finger, beckoning. Clarke would be lying if she didn’t feel a slight thrill spike through her belly. She steps forward into Lexa’s space willingly. It’s been happening more frequently that they’ll be caught by either one of Clarke or Lexa’s other friends, heads together, muttering in low voices, like they shared a secret between them. They always got called out, and more often than not it caused one or the other to step away and brush it off as if nothing had happened. That was the problem with high school. Constantly being judged. It was better to laugh it off.

Lexa glances from side to side, over her own shoulder and Clarke’s. They’re at school early enough that there are barely any other kids around - this was usually by design, the two girls liked to hang out without having to deal with surrounding comments.

“What is it?”

Clarke stage whispers, buying into Lexa’s surreptitious looks and using it to her advantage by stepping as close as she dared to the other girl. It didn’t seem to deter Lexa as she whispered straight back:

“I found something on the way to school this morning.”

Lexa was one of the few kids Clarke knew that didn’t own a car - Indra, her aunt, let her borrow her own when she needed it but since she worked full time, Lexa tended to walk to school. When they were younger, she’d been picked on for coming in on her bike, and when one of the jocks had ‘accidentally’ reversed over it after school one day, she couldn’t really afford to have it replaced. Thankfully, she didn’t live far enough from the school that it mattered, but Clarke still kept watch while she dropped a stink bomb through the window of the offender’s car. That had been near the end of their junior year.

Today, as a senior, people didn’t mess with Lexa as often as they had in the past. Clarke had witnessed Lexa’s transformation into, for lack of a better term, punk, which suited her devil may care attitude to her core. And when Clarke had returned from her family vacation almost hadn’t recognised her the first day back the beginning of their senior year. The words ‘damn’ ‘hot’ and ‘shit’ had been used, and Lexa had laughed and blushed but grinned all the same, trying to shrug it off.

“You have to be very, very, quiet, okay?” Lexa looks at her, her hand on the zipper of her messenger bag. Clarke nods quickly, seriously, and she follows Lexa’s gaze back down as she hears the noise of the bag be opened very slowly. For a second, Clarke can’t make anything out, just the blackness of an empty interior. Then, suddenly, bright green eyes were staring up at her.

“Oh my g—-,” okay, so maybe Clarke is bad at taking instruction. Lexa hurriedly covers the blonde’s mouth with her hand, lest she spook the kitten or give away the animal taking refuge in her bag.

“Hush, Griffin, or you’ll get us all in tr- yeouch!” Lexa jerks her hand away when she feels Clarke’s tongue against her palm, a shiver running through her that had nothing to do with disgust. “You’re upsetting Neville.”

“Neville?” Clarke questions, slightly calmer, and when Lexa promptly looks into the depths of her bag, the black kitten meows softly, as they know their name. “How do you know Neville is a boy?” She reaches her hand in to let the animal sniff, cautiously. 

Lexa looks suddenly crestfallen. “I don’t know, actually.” Animal biology was not either of their strong suits. They look at the kitten that looks back at them, both in despair over the gender of their new addition. The fact that Lexa had chosen to include Clarke at all delighted the blonde, and she places a hand on Lexa’s shoulder in comfort.

“It’s okay. Let’s give them a name that’s gender neutral. What about Neko?” Clarke grins.

“That just means cat in Japanese, you know that, right?” Lexa looks amused, but she’s only teasing. She pokes Clarke’s side, carefully readjusting her pack. “Neko it is. Wanna skip school and take them to the vet with me?”

Clarke looks so elated that Lexa wonders why she hadn’t picked a roadside kitten up months ago. Maybe she should’ve asked for a kiss, instead. As the thought flits through her mind, she bites the inside of her cheek to try and fight the blush she can feel. She looks down at the bag again, trying to focus her feelings on feral feline domestication.

“Ladies.”

The voice that speaks is not Clarke’s, she knows as much. It’s large and loud and far too brash for Clarke. Lexa’s lip curls as she zips her bag shut, wordlessly, settling for a glare towards the football player.

“What do you want, Bellamy?” Clarke sounds exasperated, to Lexa’s acute relief. Of course, it was none of her business who Clarke hung out with when she was in cheerleader, but Blake was a loud mouth and was incapable of understanding the word no. He was far too close for comfort, his arm braced against the locker, trapping Clarke between him and Lexa. He pays Lexa no mind.

“To ask you out, of course. I knew Murphy would strike out, so I thought I’d give you a go.”

The grin on his face makes Lexa want to punch him more than usual. He’s referring to the Monday morning debacle where Clarke had very loudly and publicly told Murphy to, and Lexa grins thinking of the blonde’s exact wording: “Fuck off and come back when you realise the key to succession is not to smack a woman’s ass with the assumption they’re going to thank you for it.”

Clarke takes a step back from him and toward Lexa as he speaks, her brows furrowed. “Charming, but no, thanks, Blake.”

The reaction from the boy is one neither expects. He slams his hand against the lockers, making them rattle. Clarke, who’s lost her nerve at this point, jumps in shock and backs up so suddenly, she collides with the front of Lexa, as she stands behind her. Lexa winds her arm round Clarke’s waist, making to pull the blonde behind her. At the same time, she slips the bag slowly from her shoulder and hands the strap to Clarke.

“Please hold this Clarke, while I kick this guy’s ass.”

“Seriously?” He sneers when he clocks what Lexa is doing. “What the fuck? She doesn’t belong to you, Woods. I swear to god, you’re only doing it for the attention.” 

Blake pushes back from the lockers and makes to grab for Clarke. Lexa, quickly, steps into his way. She’s not enough to  _block_ him and he knows this, so he stands there and laughs. Mistake number one, losing focus.

“I’m going to tell you once, before this gets ugly. Leave us alone, now, before I break your nose.” 

Lexa looks over her shoulder to Clarke, who is wide-eyed and, maybe Lexa imagines this part, awestruck. In all the time this has been happening, a few more students have begun to fill the halls, as it gets closer to the beginning of the school day. Bellamy had better decide fast.

But Bellamy Blake was never the sharpest tool in the shed. Lexa supposed that was all the head bashing that came with the territory of defence. Either way, as he stops laughing, rather than leaving (as he should), he instead, ducks his head slightly so he’s eye level with the slightly shorter brunette.

“Make me.”

Mistake number two.

Before Blake has a chance to react, Lexa’s fist has connected with Blake’s large nose. The larger boy’s head snaps back, in a move Clarke sees as reminiscent of Hermione decking Draco Malfoy in the face in Prisoner of Azkaban. Suddenly she’s weirdly turned on, and as Blake howls and stumbles backwards, clutching his rapidly bruising and bleeding extremity, Clarke threads her fingers through Lexa’s free hand. She tugs her round to face her, and together they hurry out of the building, the bag containing Neko being held carefully away from the danger of hip bumps with the blonde’s other hand. As they walk, Clarke speaks.

“You know,” she laughs as they exit safely, toward her car. “This might sound totally inappropriate and kind of weird, but I’m kind of hot for you right now?” She laughs even though her cheeks blaze red with the truth of it, and she looks over at Lexa, hoping she’s not just ruined a friendship.

But Lexa’s hand stays firmly anchored to her own, and the little squeeze causes a swoop in her belly.

“I was actually trying to figure out how to ask  _you_ if you ever felt like being totally inappropriate with me sometime.”

Lexa grins and Clarke shoulder barges her, and they both laugh with the relief that emanates between them. Though they say nothing more over it, Lexa knows she’s not going to let go of Clarke’s hand any time soon. Sometimes you just have to let these things out.


	6. Different Kind of Hungry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "You need to stop leaving dead bodies in my kitchen." Vampire AU. Teeny tiny drabble.

“So, how are you doing?” Lexa kicks her feet up on to the desk, glancing with mild interest at the CCTV screens in front of her. Night shift may have felt a bit more of a novelty if it wasn’t the only shift she could do. At least she was alone, for the most part. It was better than those few months at LoveCraft. 

“Um. You know. Fine.” Clarke almost squeaks on the other end of the line, tries to cover it with a cough and then gives up. “I ordered a pizza?”

It sounds like a question, but Lexa knows better. She puts her feet back on the floor and leans forward, pressing the phone more tightly to her ear. She waits for the blonde to elaborate, but there is silence.

“Clarke…” Lexa prompts, her tone sounds like a warning and her brow furrows.

“He just, he smelled so  _good_  Lexa,” Clarke bemoans, and Lexa tries to make light of the situation. Thinks about laughing. Instead, she bares her teeth and runs her tongue over her sharp, pointed canines. Sighs, quietly to herself.

“You need to stop leaving dead bodies in my kitchen.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to, if you were here to entertain me,” Clarke fires back, sounding less needy, more teasing. Challenging. 

“I’ll be home just before sunrise, love. It’s not far away, I promise,” Lexa soothes, imagining her blonde’s expression. Ansty. But being the younger, the less experienced of the two meant that Lexa wasn’t ready for Clarke to leave the safety of their apartment. Though they had both been turned at a similar age and so presented, in a physical sense, as young adults in their mid twenties, Lexa had a few decades on Clarke. A fact she continually brought to light (or not, all things considered) whenever Clarke got upset.

“I’m sorry, Lex.” Not just for the dead body, but for the loss of control. As a human, Clarke had been spontaneous, reckless, maybe a little tactless. These qualities were not conducive to a safe afterlife. They both knew that.

“It’s okay, Clarke. I wish I’d been with you.” She licks her lips, a warmth blossoming in the pit of her stomach as she envisions the sight. A beat of silence, and then Clarke responds.

“Yeah?” Her tone has taken on a tone that makes Lexa squirm; she may have a handle on her bloodlust, but her control over her feelings for the blonde were ever present and difficult to hide. She tips her head back against the office chair, screens in front of her forgotten.

“Mmm.” She couldn’t think past the fantasy that had formed in her head, not enough to answer in a word.

“Can’t you come home now? I want you.”

Lexa blinks her eyes open to focus on the clock. Two hours left. “I want to, I do. God, I want to.”

“God has nothing to do with what I want to do with you, Lexa.”


	7. I'll See You After School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two sentence prompt from a while ago. "We shouldn't be doing this," and "Why are you bleeding?"

* * *

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Clarke gasps as her hands grip tighter in Lexa’s brunette curls. Even as the words leaves her mouth her hips jerk in time with Lexa’s tongue, working hard, steady strokes against her. Clarke leans further, her legs wide apart urging Lexa on. It wasn’t the first time the dark room had held host to their antics, but it might be the first time they’re discovered if Clarke didn’t marshall her instinct to moan with every flick of Lexa’s tongue. She has class in ten minutes.

“Mmm, no we really shouldn’t,” But Lexa still sinks her teeth into Clarke’s inner thigh, listening to the blonde groan above her. She soothes the bite with her tongue and gets to her feet, prompting Clarke to shuffle back. The blonde’s skirt is still pushed up under her breasts, underwear discarded somewhere in the softly lit room. As Clarke lies down, she curls her hand into a fist around Lexa’s shirt and pulls her up and over, so she’s at the mercy of the woman above her. 

“Take it off, Lex.” Lexa complies after a second, letting it drop beside her. Clarke pulls her down, greedily, pressing skin against skin. “Now…hurry up and finish me off before my students get scarred for life.” 

Lexa laughs and salutes from above. “‘Yes ma’am.” She bends to kiss her, open mouth and panting breaths as she eases two fingers into the blonde beneath her, sighing as Clarke moans against her lips. As she curls her fingers, Clarke’s hands clutch at her back, and then drag down, hard and rough. Lexa hisses at the pain for a moment, but is distracted by the other woman’s tongue against her neck. 

“You’re so hot when you’re impatient,” Lexa presses deeper as Clarke laughs breathlessly, broken and caught up in the pleasure of her nearing climax. As Clarke claws at her again, she resists the urge to bite at her neck, knowing that if she did they’d be at the mercy of their students, already all too aware of  _something_ between the teachers. A hickey would be the icing on the cake. Still, it tempted Lexa, with Clarke’s head thrown back as she writhes beneath her. Her mouth open, gaping, breath coming in stuttering gasps. Lexa kisses at her neck, jaw, lips, to smother her sounds of pleasure as she comes apart beneath her. 

Lexa slides back off the table as Clarke comes down from her high. Her chest heaves, flushed and covered in sweat. She sits up as Lexa turns her back to pick up her  white shirt and shrugs it on, biting her lip as she looks at the raised red on the brunette’s back.  _Almost_ says something. Almost. Instead she gets dressed quickly, mindful of the time. Five minutes to get Lexa out and down the hall to her own classroom before the bell for fifth period. 

Eventually they’re ready, and though she knows they’ll be meeting after school’s out because Clarke cooked vegetarian chilli and Lexa’s bringing brownies, she feels a sense of loss all the same. Her bottom lip sticks out in a pout that, though is childish, makes Lexa want to kiss her senseless. After one, two, three quick pecks, the last one maybe a bit too long, Clarke opens the door to main classroom and they cross the room to the exit in quick strides. She opens the door as the bell rings across the hallway, and Lexa makes it almost all the way to her own room before a young voice carries up the corridor. 

“Ms Woods, why are you bleeding?” 


	8. Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tiny bit I found on my phone from back in April.

Clarke only takes two days away, because that's all the time she can afford. Two days in a darkened hotel room and a bottle of whiskey and the last photo of all of them together. When she's done, she returns. Drives up to their house. Knocks, even though she has a key, just in case. After a minute, she hears voices, older and young, and younger. A dog barking.

 

Anya opens the door with their 2 year old daughter on her hip, and Clarke smiles for the first time since Lexa left them. "Mama!" The child reaches out and away from her aunt impatiently, chubby fingers flexing. Clarke takes her into her arms without a second thought and blows a raspberry into her cheek, listening to Jess squeak in delight. "Mama's home now, baby."


	9. Good Cop, Bad Cop.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is probably a prompt from somewhere. Unfinished, but also sitting on my tumblr (which is incidentally the same as my ao3 name AHEM) and I figured I'll post it here.

Woods, your perp is in room three, she’s looking pissed.” 

Lexa sighs and rubs a hand across her forehead taking the coffee cup passed to her as she picks up Clarke’s record from her desk on the way down the hall. 

“Yeah, thanks Linc. Is anyone scheduled in for later on?” 

She tried to look disinterested by the whole thing, as if it was just going to be a slog of paper to go through and giving Ms Griffin a stern talking to. The reality was different. Her free hand shook by her side and she sipped at her coffee to try and calm herself. But her best friend from high school was sat waiting for in a room down the hall and she felt eighteen all over again. 

“Nah, you’re good. Just make sure you’re done by five, Kane wants you to finish up that paperwork from yesterday.” 

“Yessir,” Lexa jokes, saluting as she yells down the hall, opening the door with her free hand and pushing backwards into it. She locks it behind her. Clarke is sat with her head down, blonde mane covering the majority of her face. At the sound of the door, Clarke’s head moves and her hand pushes her hair back over her shoulder. It’s wet, because they made her get a shower after being processed. Probably a good thing, too, because she seemed more sober now. 

“Well, hello again, Miss Woods.” Clarke was staring with her with bottomless ocean blue eyes and Lexa hated the way she could feel the gaze in the pit of her stomach, burning slowly. 

“It’s Detective, now, actually.” Lexa responded, clipped and trying her best to seem unaffected. 

“Ooh, okay, Detective. Impressive.” As Lexa pulls out the chair opposite her, the girl who used to buy their popcorn on movie nights and get it extra sweet because that’s how Lexa liked it, she had to wonder if it was her fault. 

“Not as impressive as you,” the detective drops her folder on the table between them, leaning back into her chair and taking a sip of her coffee. She watches as Clarke’s eyes follow the movement of the cup to her mouth. 

“You thirsty?” Lexa questions, putting her cup down slowly. 

Clarke quirks an eyebrow and kicks her feet up on to the table, crossing her ankles in front of Lexa, big black boots and skinny ripped jeans goading Lexa and her navy blue and silver badge shining in the harsh fluorescents. “Something like that.” She licks her lips, and Lexa’s heart might’ve stuttered. Maybe that best-friend totally platonic crush wasn’t as platonic as she’d thought. Maybe that prom night kiss wasn’t as innocent or as experimental as Clarke had assured her. 

“You look good, Lex, you know that? I’ve missed you.” Clarke’s eyes are sincere even as she smirks at her. Clarke Griffin has always known what she’s about, Lexa knows this. Even as someone who by her record has been unemployed since dropping out of college at nineteen and picked up for some minor offences of petty theft and possession between then and now, Clarke has always known.

“You ran a car off the road, Clarke.” She opened the folder, turning a page so she could see her priors. 

“I was tired,” the blonde shrugged, her jaw set and eyes blazing. Daring. 

“The breathalyser test says different.” 

“And what do you say about me, Miss Woods?” 

“We’re not about to make this personal, Clarke. It’s Detective, and if I have to tell you again, I’ll—,” 

“—you’ll what? Arrest me? I’m already locked in this room. I’m here for you.” 

Lexa shook her head slightly, but Clarke slides her legs off the table and leans forward, resting her elbows on the table. “I’ve missed you, I didn’t know what to do after my dad, after you—-we,” she tries, hand reaching out, eyes speaking words that can’t find their way from where they’re stuck in Clarke’s throat.

Lexa’s had enough. She bolts from the chair and stands up so suddenly that the blonde opposite her reels back in the chair in surprise. The table between them is suddenly a major inconvenience. She pushes it aside roughly, thankful it’s light. It doesn’t so much bump into the wall as crashes, and for a moment Lexa considers that she might’ve scared Clarke. 

“If you’re here for me, then stand up.” Clarke doesn’t react quickly enough, and Lexa allows some softness, an echo of younger Lexa to come through. “Please.” 

Almost immediately Clarke Griffin is on her feet, and in the next second, they’re at each others throats. Lexa presses her lips to Clarke’s and is instantly rewarded with a breathless moan, one that transports her back to that night of prom, after she had found Clarke sitting alone on the bleachers because Finn Collins was making out with another girl behind her back. It was everything she remembered and more. She sucks Clarke’s bottom lip into her mouth and curls her hand into her hair, while Clarke backs her into the table she’d shoved aside not moments ago. 

“Up,” Clarke demands, and Lexa is so beyond herself that she complies, lifting herself backwards on to the table and widening her legs so that the blonde can step between them. She feels her belt being tugged at, and she breaks from Clarke’s lips again to hear her whine in frustration, raking her fingernails down Lexa’s back and making her hiss. 

“Look, I’m not saying the uniform isn’t great, I swear I’ve been wanting to fuck you since you slammed me against the car,” she presses her knee against the edge of the table and Lexa grinds down on her thigh in response, groaning, “but Officer, I would kindly request you remove your pants so that I can finish what we started seven years ago.” 

Lexa looks at her at that point, senses coming back to her all at once. She grins. “In that case, you best remove your shirt. It’s needed. For evidence.” 

Clarke looks at her with comically wide eyes and nods mock seriously, taking a step back and tugging her shirt over her head quickly, while Lexa unbuckles her belt and shucks her pants down to her ankles. Lexa reaches forward and yanks Clarke back between her legs, reaching behind her back and snapping the clasp of her bra, letting it fall off and to the floor. 

Lexa takes her in, greedily, eyes roving before she bends her head and licks at Clarke’s bare breast, tugging one nipple between her teeth sharply, letting Clarke gasp before soothing with her tongue.  Clarke’s legs shake and she leans forward, pressing into Lexa, relishing the contact. The arm that isn’t braced against Lexa’s shoulder for support finds the warmth and wetness between the brunette’s mostly bared legs.


End file.
